


Cigarettes and a Death Wish

by orphan_account



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, But it's their characters not them IRL, Cigarettes, Gen, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It's not descriptive but still, Just to be safe, Philza is not married, Philza works at a gas station, Sorry Kristin, Suicidal Thoughts, Technoblade is a Minor in this, This is an AU, Trans Male Character, Trans Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), but its my shit, it's barely mentioned - Freeform, this is not a ship fic, this is probably bad but it's okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29747349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A suicidal Technoblade visits a gas station at 2am with the intention of buying a pack of cigarettes. He finds Phil, a man who cares too much to let the kid with tear tracks on his face leave his store without making sure he's okay
Relationships: Phil Watson & Technoblade - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 192





	Cigarettes and a Death Wish

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so I wrote this whilst high. Probably will regret it later, but oh well. Sorry if it's bad, I don't really care. Inspired by something that happened to me just yesterday, minus a new father figure of course, I'm not that lucky.

The night was a wet one, a cold one, and with every breath a cloud of smoke erupted from swollen lips. The night was not so cold as to freeze, but the tears on his face felt stuck, their brief contact with his flushed skin making icy rivers on his face. Brushing pink hair out of his eyes, he took in a shuddering breath and pulled his hood up, keeping his gaze down at his feet. They carried him to a familiar gas station, but it didn’t register until the bell dinged, and the rush of warmth thawed his tears. Taking a sniff, the boy walked up to the register, avoiding eye contact with the person behind the desk

“Pack of Marlboro’s” he said, voice weak and scratchy from the tears. The person turned around, and he snuck a gaze. The man, as he could now see, was dressed in a tacky shirt and khaki pants, and had wiry blond hair which fell to just above his shoulder.

“Here ya are, mate” his voice was warm and comforting, and it made the boy tear up all over again

“Thanks” he chanced a look at the man, and when he did, he saw the smile on his face falter, turning to a look of concern. Phil was on the nameplate, written in a bold white font. So what if the boy was zoning out? Not like it mattered, nothing did-

“Are you okay?” the- Phil leaned over on his arms, meeting the eyes of the boy. The voice snapped him back to reality. Clearing his throat, he looked down at the counter

“Yeah” came the gruff reply. A few seconds of silence followed

“I asked if you had an I.D on you”

“Oh,” another pause, “I don’t- didn’t think I’d need one”

If he were looking, he would have seen Phil frown. A soft sigh fell from the man’s lips. “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“No” The boy pulled out a 20 and slid it to him. The frown deepened, and this time he saw it. The sight made his chest squeeze uncomfortably.

Phil slid it back. “I’m sorry, I can’t sell it to you without I-”

The boy looked up, fully up, face no longer hidden by the shadow of his hood. It made Phil falter before giving up entirely. He rang up the cigarettes, eyes constantly switching back to the pinkette. “Do you want your receipt?”

He shook his head and took the cigarettes, walking out the front door with a cheery ‘ding’. He sat on the sidewalk next to the propane cage and opened the pack. A few seconds, and a puff of smoke came from his lips, indistinguishable from the clouds his breath made. The smoke from the cigarette was warm, coiling around his fingers elegantly. The back of his head hit the wall, his eyes slipped shut, and the rain pinging on the metal roof nearly lulled him to sleep. That is, until a ‘ding’ shook him out of his trance. Flinching, the boy searched for the source, eyes landing on Phil. He looked down at the hand with the cigarette and took another drag, wincing when the smoke got in his eye. 

“Can I join you?” asked Phil.

A nod was the only response, and so the man sat next to him. The following silence made the tension all the more tangible. In an attempt to ease it, the boy offered a cigarette to him. Phil accepted, taking the lighter offered. It was pink, with a faded pig sticker on it. He handed it back, and no one spoke. Coughing interrupted the silence, and the boy looked at him. Phil brushed it off with a laugh.

“Between you and me, I’ve never smoked a day in my life” He took another drag, coughing weakly when the smoke hit his throat.

“Hold it in your mouth for a few seconds before breathin’ it in” The pinkette took a drag himself, “it’ll burn less when you inhale”

“Thanks.”

A biting wind blew through the mostly empty gas station, and the boy shivered, only having his thin hoodie to protect him from the elements. He flinched when a jacket was wrapped around his shoulders, yet he relaxed soon after from the warmth it gave.

“So,” said Phil, “Do you have a name?”

The boy hesitated. “Technoblade.”

“That’s an unusual name” Phil took a drag, not coughing this time.

“Chose it myself.” Technoblade hugged the jacket closer to him, near melting at the soft, furry lining.

“Hm” a pause. “I like it”

“Thanks.”

“... it’s late, you know?”

“I know.” his voice came out harsher than intended, and even he winced at the tone

“Don’t you have school tomorrow? It’s… wednesday, right?”

“It doesn’t matter.” ‘because I’ll be dead,’ 

Phil gave a sigh. “Where do you go to school?”

“SMP”

“SMP? That’s.. a highschool, fuck” Phil cursed, resting his head in his hands, “I sold cigarettes to a minor.”

Technoblade chuckled. “Yep.”

Another sigh. Or an exhale of smoke, Technoblade wasn’t able to tell. “Oh well, this job is shit anyway”

“.. I’ve never smoked before either.” confessed Techno

“What?”

“Yeah, bruh moment.. I only know from watching people who do it, and hearing them complain”

“Never would have known… why did you start tonight?”

He hesitated, something he did quite often. But, well, what was the harm? He wouldn’t be alive long enough to regret it anyway. “It’s my last day”

Phil stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“I’m killin’ myself” Technoblade put out the cigarette on the sidewalk, tossing it into a nearby trash can. It hit the rim and bounced to the ground. He couldn’t be bothered to care. A hand on his shoulder made him flinch, and his head whipped around, wide-eyed gaze meeting the concerned, saddened gaze of Phil

“Don't.” he said earnestly. 

Technoblade got angry and brushed the man’s hand off. “And why not? Because it’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem? Because I have so much to live for? I’ve heard it all and I’m  _ sick _ of it. Of hearin’ the same  **shit** over n over! So just tell me why I shouldn’t!” his eyes narrowed in a glare. “You don’t even know me, so why do you even care?” 

“You’re right, I don’t know you. I shouldn’t care, but.. I do. I’ve seen you come into the store, always before my shift begins, I walk past you. I know you get the same monster every time, green, and I know you like the peppermint Extra, not the spearmint. I know you’re a good kid, and that you deserve so much better, because I see the bruises too.” That made Technoblade flinch, and he guiltily averted his gaze. Phil probably didn’t even realize he was crying, and that somehow made it worse. “So just give yourself a chance” His voice sounded pained, like the 5 words hurt him, tearing at his throat and making it burn

“Why should I?” Technoblade’s voice was soft and broken. He hugged his knees to his chest as the tears fell without his permission. “Even if I manage to get out of that house, I’d be just as depressed as I am now, except even more alone. There’s no point in me bein’ here any longer, anyway” a small sob escaped him, and he bowed his head more. He tensed when he was pulled in for a hug, then crumbled and threw his arms around Phil, crying freely into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Phil murmured, pulling him close. “I’m so sorry.” He understood that mindset all too well. Even at 32, almost 33 years old, the demons still did haunt him at night when he could run from them no more. He hated that this kid, that Technoblade, the soft spoken and anxious lad who only ever wore a black Minecraft hoodie, struggled with those same feelings.

“I-I’m scared… to kill myself” he spoke after the cries died down. “I don’t wanna die.. But I don’t know if-if I can do this anymore.” painful sobs followed

“Shhhh, shhshhhhh” Phil ran fingers through his hair, causing Techno to let out a shuddering breath and lean into the touch, more cries escaping him. It broke Phil’s heart

It was a few minutes before the crying dissolved into soft sniffles. Technoblade didn’t let go, and Phil didn’t mind. “I’m sorry.” rasped Techno.

“Don’t be.” Phil gave a trembling sigh, a few tears of his own slipping down his cheeks. “ _ I’m _ sorry.. I don’t know what you’re going through, and I’m sorry that I can’t take your pain away. I can’t promise that it gets better, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I work 5-3 on weekday nights” he gave a half hearted, watery smile. Technoblade’s lips twitched up in a small smile, and a final tear slid down along the path made by its predecessors.

“Okay”


End file.
